


All My Own Stunts

by m00nagedreamer



Category: Arctic Monkeys
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Journalism, Dystopia, F/M, Journalism, M/M, Manipulation, Mind Control, Multi, Paranoia, References to 1984 - George Orwell, Revenge, Thriller, Underground Dueling, through hell and back
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-06-15 06:30:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15407058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m00nagedreamer/pseuds/m00nagedreamer
Summary: Nick is a journalist in a crumbling society. He is willing to take big risks to break out of the system to prevent it from destroying even more lives like it had done with his.----each chapter has the title of a song by the band Rival Sons that is fitting - feel free to listen to the chapter's song as you are reading





	1. Good Things

**Author's Note:**

> trigger warnings are going to be added in the notes prior to the chapters where they apply

There is grandeur in a realistic view of life as much as it saddens. How does one ever live their best life with their head held high, on a smile on their face when the world keeps on getting more and more violent, destructive and terrifying. In that context "world" obviously doesn't stand for the world as in the planet we live on but the people who damage and thus destroy it bit by bit.

Now before you go from an optimistic world view like it is common among mostly children to a realistic, perhaps even pessimistic world view, something must have happened to you to make you “wake up”, mainly known as “growing up”. It’s funny to see how many people are called pessimistic when they are being realistic, the reason simply being that the world is going down the drain.

It’s been like that for decades although back then this “tendency” was merely lurking in the shadows before it started growing bit by bit, spreading like a cancer until barely anyone noticed how the darkness was infecting their minds and their actions became no longer theirs.

Nick takes his foot away from the brakes as he follows the bend to the right before he gathers speed again to which his motorcycle replies with a soft clicking noise. When he bought it a couple of months back he wasn’t sure whether getting such a modern vehicle would be worth the investment but in the end it is as environmentally friendly as it can be, fully electric, no fuel needed, no exhaust fumes.

The summer sun is heating up Nick’s dark leather jacket but he could not care less at the moment. What bothers him more is both boredom and racing thoughts colliding in his mind. He is thinking about the article he is going to write, aware of how dangerous it is. He shouldn’t be voicing his opinions and views as openly but in this filthy world this small outcry would be the only hint of closure one would get.

Nick bites his lip, trying to focus on the street again. There are no cars or other vehicles anywhere to be seen but he obviously still has to pay attention. Plus distracting himself by actually doing what he is supposed to might be a good idea. He doesn’t want to remember. Memories of never-ending heartache, trauma… the lines are blurring, merging, faces blending together to form one that doesn’t make sense for it doesn’t resemble anyone. Nick briefly shakes his head as though to shake off what his mind is putting him through.

It’s not much longer until he is going to reach the building where he has his tiny office. Surprising that his job even still exists. ‘Won’t be long,’ Nick thinks to himself. ‘Until all of the news are going to be fully generated and if not censored the hell out of.’

His train of thought is interrupted by his motorcycle reminding him of the speed limit.

Nick purses his lip and squints at the bright morning sun that is now peeking from behind the skyscrapers of the city he is approaching. From afar it looks spectacular but the closer you get the more you notice how rotten the city is, just like the society inhabiting it.

Nick’s heart feels somewhat heavy as he passes the city limits marker. How strongly connected his past is to this place continues to baffle him. One should get around as they get older shouldn’t they? Yet there are some people who just seem to be or get stuck. Nick ended up being one of the latter against his will. If somebody told him about how things were going to evolve only five years back he wouldn’t have believed it.

Now here he is chasing one boring day after another, hoping that at some point he will finally get himself to publish one of the articles that are going to make a lot of people angry. Another way would be spreading the word via leaflets but getting caught and vaporized is not what he has in mind. Telling the world in a legal and far more dangerous way he thinks of as way more thrilling. What is it about possibly deadly things that makes them so damn tempting?

‘You’re exaggerating,’ a part of his mind tells Nick but he is aware that he is not fully wrong or delirious. That society is a herd of dumb sheep blindly following the orders of the authorities is partly reality already. To a scary extent, really. You think of yourself as independent and individual but if you dig deeper you realize you are nothing more but a puppet.

Nick tries to think of something else, something less dark. Yet his thoughts keep returning to where he doesn’t want them. With people he just wants to ban from his mind, erase from his memories. To make it hurt less. He internally curses himself for allowing these thoughts. He needs to focus on his work, quickly. Or else his past is going to drive him completely insane. Not that he isn’t extremely close to the edge already.


	2. Baby Boy

He passes a couple of high buildings before turning left and heading down the road trying not to look what is happening next to it. He is in the part of the city some would call “dodgy” and no matter how many times he has come here before, it still makes him uncomfortable. Nick is stuck in a machinery he wants to rebel against and that is simultaneously the only thing that keeps him from ending up here and dying here. There is no safe way out of this moral dilemma and Nick is very much aware of that. How much longer until he is “okay” with being one of their sheep?

There is about half a mile left to his office when he suddenly sees a road block ahead. This is definitely new.

He could take his motorcycle all the way with him pushing it but then he would probably be extremely exhausted by the time he got to his office and that is not what he needs when he’s working on something that needs concentration. Nick purses his lips and steps on the brakes. After looking around for a bit he spots a free space where he can leave it. He can do nothing but hope it doesn’t get stolen. It would be just as unsafe in any other part of the city though. Nick secures his motorcycle as good as possible by putting his wheel clamp in place and enabling the alarm.

He is feeling uneasy and he cannot quite tell why yet. He has been here so many times before but he figures it is the unpredictability of this part of town that gets him in the mood he is in right now. Nick takes off his helmet, grabs his case and takes one last look at his motorcycle to make sure he hasn’t forgotten anything. Then he makes his way down the street to his office. It doesn’t take long until he hears clamouring coming from an alley to his right. He bites his lip and decides to follow the noise. Not that he has much to lose anyway. Or that he cares about getting yelled at for being late. Nick can see a group of people standing around a man who is speaking very loudly. Every once in a while, some of them nod their agreement, let out angry mumbles or just hum. The journalist can’t help but feel curious about what is going on.

The speaker steps onto the platform made of half-rotten planks and wooden pallets. For a second Nick feels like he is going to fall but he doesn't. "And the bodies shall pile up in the back yards like trash bags. Watch them burn covered in the paper the big matches strive for!" The man opens his fist and lets a couple of £10 bills fall to the ground. Nick shudders, his eyes fixated on the speaker's lips. He cannot look away. This feels like a bad dream. The big matches the man is referring to are the authorities, obviously. The people Nick still works for. He wonders if the speaker can tell. Probably.

The man is staring back at Nick now, pointing in his direction and his heart turns to ice. He is ready and willing to knock somebody out with his helmet but showing signs of hostility in an area like this certainly is not a good idea. “You are one of us, my friend. Whether you like it or not,” the speaker announces and heads in the crowd are turning. Nick gulps before he folds his hands to keep them from shaking and lowers his head. He has no idea what to say. "They have gotten you, don’t they?” the man asks and laughs without humour. A couple of low sighs and mumbling emerge from the spectators.

Nick wets his lips and raises his head, carefully considering his words. ‘You’re a writer, dammit. You got this,’ he tells himself. “I have the keys. I’ve got to find out which one fits,” he replies which earns him content nods. Nick feels slightly less uncomfortable now that they have shown a sign of approval. ‘Remember what you have to do. It’s for them as well. The key is love. You promised it.’


	3. Pocketful of Stones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~flashback~

_It was the third or fourth protest this week. Nick was sitting at the window looking down at the street,_ _trying to read what some of the signs said. He could have been down there as well but his job didn’t allow him to. Not without him ending up in jail or worse. He had to keep his mouth shut for now._ _In his mind he felt like there were war drums_

_“Oi, what are you doing?” his boss snarled and Nick’s head snapped up. “Lookin’ at those crazed bastards isn’t going to get your work done, y’know?” He crossed his arms and shook his head._

_Nick nodded briefly, not really paying attention though._ _His mind was with the protesters demanding the authorities to put an end to seamless monitoring_ _,_ _obviously connected to_ _more political transparency_ _and politics working for the people as they should and not against them – human rights should be paid attention to._

 _Nick’s boss snapped his fingers and grunted. “That you are a bit fucked in the head doesn’t mean you will always have an excuse never to do anything. Don’t you think I’ll condone your arrogance forever, O’Malley._ _You might be a smart dude but don’t you dare let that get to your head._ _If you weren’t so good at what you’re doing **when** you’re doing something, you would have been out of here long ago.”_

 _Nick could hardly keep himself from shouting at his boss that he was just as fake as any of the other supporters of the current government._ _He decided to just let it slide and moved his chair closer to his desk again. The headline of his probably never to be finished article_ _about Mazar-i-Sharif haunted him like a eulogy. Ironic, considering that is what the article was, pretty much._

_His boss left and Nick looked out of the window again. He was feeling uneasy, a lump forming in his throat. This was not the right way. There had to be another. This was not how he would learn to deal with what happened – it would only make things worse._

_He looked outside again and sighed quietly. He suddenly felt like he was being watched and got up from his chair, walking over to the window. One of the protesters was looking right at him and although Nick was only on the second floor, he could tell the man was smiling. Even though the crowd was moving, they didn’t break eye contact. Nick was mesmerised. Who was this person and why that look? Why did it feel like Nick was seen as a part of the protesters by that one man staring up at him? His thoughts were racing when he sat back down at his desk. What a look alone could cause was incredible. He had made that experience in the past before, however, in a very different fashion..._


	4. Tell Me Something

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~flashback~

_Nick closed the door behind him when he got back home from work and heard his girlfriend greet him for the living room before she entered the hallway. They kissed briefly and Nick tucked a strand of her behind her ear, smiling. His face turned serious. His girlfriend let go off him. She sensed something was wrong._

_“_ _Listen, I’ve got to tell you something,” Nick mumbled and rubbed his neck. He was trying to tell himself there was no need to be nervous but he would be lying. His girlfriend crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows in response, waiting._ _Nick hesitated. His voice cracked as he said it out loud._ _“They are sending me to Kabul_ _for two months_ _.”_

_She scoffed. “You’re joking,” she said but the fear in her eyes showed she knew he was serious._

_“I wish I was, love,” Nick responded and sighed. “They want me as a war correspondent there. I have no choice.”_

_His girlfriend was silent for a moment before she bit her lip and shook her head. “Of course you have a choice. There is always a choice.”_

_“Not in this...”_

_“Why don’t they send in someone else?” she asked, her voice flat. Nick lowered his head and sighed once again. He didn’t reply. “There better be a good reason, Nick. I don’t want you out there in Pakistan or whatever.”_

_“Afghanistan,” Nick corrected her and she laughed without humour. “Chris and his wife are expecting a baby so he can’t go,” he added._

_“What if I was pregnant, too, huh? I want a family with you, Nick! Now they’re sending you to a freaking war zone? To write articles or whatever? You can do that from here away from the danger!”_

_“_ _Rachel, please-”_

_His girlfriend interrupted him. “Oh, don’t ‘Rachel, please’ me! I love you, Nick. I want you to stay. Please. I’m begging you.”_

_Nick felt like he was going to cry. “I love you, too. And I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I wish there was another way. I couldn’t quit my job even if I wanted to.” Tears started streaming down his girlfriend’s face. Nick took her in his arms, now crying as well. He felt a stinging sensation in his heart. He wasn't worried about his well-being but hers. “God, I love you so much.” They stood there like there for some more moments. “I’ll try to stay out of trouble.”_

_Rachel pulled away from him and sniffed. Nick wiped the tears from her cheek. “’Cause we now that worked so well in the past, Mr Nicholas “I’m so sorry I tripped over your car” O’Malley,” she joked, referring to how the two of them had met._ _Nick had been so mesmerised by her look that he had walked into the hood of her car in the parking lot. A sad smile crept on her face. “I’m kidding. You say you’re going to be careful and I trust you. How much longer until you have to go?”_

 _Nick bit his lip. His girlfriend rested her hands on Nick’s chest and kissed him._ _He could tell she was still very upset. Well, so was he. However, this job was his only chance to get into a better and higher position plus he was being forced to go so there was no rational way out of it. Running away with his girlfriend wouldn’t do any good._ _“Four days,” he answered._

_“Let’s make them last.”_


	5. Secret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~flashback~
> 
> tw: mentions of weapons, war

_Nick didn't feel comfortable walking around the base - or as they called it: OP for Operation Point - for the first couple of days at all. The feeling of being totally out of place wasn't eased by the beige desert camo print uniform he had to wear. Well, better to be in here than **out there**. Or was it?_

_Nick had been told to either tie his hair together or cut it off and he had gone with the first option. They had given him some of those giant shrapnel-proof sunglasses as well so he more or less looked like any of the soldiers around the base. Except he wasn't. Nick was not one of them. He hadn't received years of training concerning capable of fighting you were all in all, melee, weaponry or tactical skill. All he had was common sense and crippling fear that kept him going._

_Nick didn't talk much to the others and vice-versa. On the fifth day, he was forced to though. One of the sergeants patted his shoulder as he approached Nick from behind and his hand immediately shot down to the holster where he carried a P8, a small gun they had told him - with a grin - even **he** could use. Nick was going to practice or rather learn using it under supervision of some of the experienced troops here over the next couple of days. He had never shot a gun before and didn't intend to have a first on this one._

_“My, my, it's just me. Not that you know me, really,” the sergeant whose name Nick still didn't know laughed and the latter tried playing it off by laughing as well which only caused him to come off as more nervous. The soldier was American. “O'Malley, right?” he asked. Not that Nick's name tag didn't read exactly that. He nodded with a cautious smile and the sergeant nodded in return. “You're the writer, aren't you? You're going to tell the world about the shit that's going down here, eh?” They started walking toward to command centre._

_Nick cleared his throat. “Well, those are the orders I received,” he responded. “If what I write...” he trailed off and paused for a moment to choose his words carefully. “If what I write, which is going to be as truthful as possible considering confidentiality, doesn't reach the masses in that form, it's not my doing, I promise.” Nick laughed without humour._

_The sergeant gave him a sympathetic smile which quickly turned into a grin. He nudged him in the shoulder with his fist. “You talk like a writer, too! I like you already.”_

_Nick bit his lip and blushed a little. Usually, he would have tucked his hair behind his ear now. “The name's Sergeant Nicholas Francis,” the soldier introduced himself and shook his hand. "Call me Francis, though," he added with a wink._

_“Nice to meet you, Francis,” Nick returned, still obviously lacking self-confidence. Francis smiled broadly and patted his shoulder before they continued walking. Nick had almost forgotten how enormously big the base was. Without Francis he would have surely gotten lost, he thought. “We share a first name, you know?”_

_Francis' eyebrows shot up. “Oh, really? That's even more awesome!” He clapped his hands together once and laughed to himself. Nick felt like he was going to become good friends with this man. “Nicholas O'Malley, huh? You want to hear something great?”_

_Nick hesitated before eventually replying. “I guess...”_

_“I'm going to train you.”_

_Reality hit and Nick's smile shrank. He was here to write about the war. About this gruesome, pointless, expensive fucking war._

_Francis pursed his lips and sighed after a couple of moments of silence. “By your face I can tell you hate it and believe me, so do I.” He scoffed and shook his head. “The human is but a beast, only more ruthless than other animals.” Nick nodded and folded his hands to hide how much they were shaking. He was sure Francis **knew** though. “I know it’s far too early for that but frankly I don’t care – I hope I can get you to trust me. My gut feeling rarely fails me and I think you’re a good guy, O’Malley. You don’t belong here. You should get out of here probably more than anyone else.”_

_Nick was going to interrupt Francis but the latter raised his finger and clicked his tongue. “I take the responsibility of trying my hardest to protect you. It’s not an order I received or something, it’s something I want to do. I feel we’re going to get along rather well.”_

_Nick stared at Francis in amazement for a moment before he snapped out of it and smiled shyly. He couldn’t help but feel a hint of doubt in the back of his mind. Regardless he said “That’s incredibly nice of you, Francis, thank you. What makes you think I desperately need protection though?”_

_Francis smirked. “Check your holster, my ink-wielding brother. I’ve had this for several minutes.” He handed Nick his P8 and patted his shoulder. With that, he turned around and walked off._


	6. Three Fingers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~flashback~
> 
> tw: mentions of violence, weapons, war, drugs

_Francis patted Nick’s shoulder as they approached the training grounds. “Ready?”_

_Nick bit his lip. “Not really, to be honest,” he admitted. “Not like I have much of a choice, I suppose.”_

_“You better get ready then. Take a deep breath,” Francis said. “C’mon, man.” He smiled broadly and punched Nick in the shoulder._

_Nick smiled back shyly and tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear. “Alright then.” He drew his weapon._

_“Whoa, whoa, okay. I’m glad you’re so eager. And I’m glad you’re not pointing at anyone. That would have been your first lesson. Only point your gun at somebody who you’re certain is an enemy. Or somebody you want to get inside of, you get me?” He winked. “Now I know when you have the most innocent-looking person, maybe even a kid with an semi-automatic gun or worse in front of you…” He paused._

_“Doing harm… taking a life… it’s going to destroy your soul bit by bit, believe me,” Francis explained and pursed his lips. Nick’s heart was aching. “So handling a weapon always, always, **always** requires an extremely good and fast-working sense of judgement. You can’t undo a gunshot. Or a stab.” He sighed. “One of my jobs is to keep you away from danger as good as I can; that includes being faced by somebody pointing a weapon at you.”_

_Somebody behind them shouted Francis’ name and the latter spun around. Something about the atmosphere changed when they talked to each other that Nick couldn’t quite make out just yet._

_The man was speaking in a language Nick couldn’t understand (he assumed it was either Dari or Paschto) but his friend’s facial expression said it all. All colour had drained from his face. He replied to the man, his voice ever so slightly shaking. The other man pursed his lips and shook his head before he looked at his feet. Nick could feel the air fill with gloom. Something really bad had happened. Francis tried to stay composed, Nick could tell. When the man left, Francis started cursing. He bit down on his lip hard, it seemed like he was tearing up._

_Nick stood up and was about to say something but Francis cut him off by raising his hand. He was breathing heavily. Nick sat back down and they were both quiet. “God-fucking-dammit,” Francis muttered eventually. He rubbed his neck and sighed._

_“What happened?” Nick asked cautiously._

_“They,” Francis began. He clenched his jaw. “They took out one of the special forces after their cover was blown. No survivors.”_

_Nick felt a lump form in his throat. “What special force?” His voice sounded like somebody else was talking. So dull. Scared._

_Francis closed his eyes as he covered the lower part of his face with his left hand. He took it down again so that he could speak. “Ever heard of gum? Opium? Well, here’s pretty much the breeding ground for those who make a living selling that shit. It has been for decades. They're like little kings, tyrants. And if you mess with them, they become violent. On the other hand we’re supposed to stem drug wars as well as human trafficking and all that other shit.” He paused for a moment._

_“We had a couple of units to locate those people and if necessary eliminate them. It’s fucked up, man. When we take down one of their leaders, a new one emerges in no time. It’s ridiculous. Pointless. Yet we’re sent here to make sure there’s **peace** ,” Francis scoffed and shook his head. His eyes were full of sadness. “How that works through fighting no one has managed to explain to me to this day.” Francis laughed without humour. “We can only pray future generations are less destructive, eh?”_

_Nick nodded slowly._

_“Now come on, let’s finally get back to training,” Francis suggested and clicked his tongue. Just when Nick got up the man from earlier marched back into the tent, panting and talking very fast. Francis’ face turned to stone once again. The man gave him a big tablet pc and after a few more words from Francis nodded briefly before leaving the tent again. After a deep sigh and nervous lip-biting Francis opened an application that led to some kind of website for leaks. What Nick saw made him feel like throwing up only a few seconds in._


	7. Hollow Bones Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~flashback~
> 
> tw: explicit imagery (graphic violence), mentions of guns, war, drug use

_The transmission showed a fragmented video of a man, his face_ _and torso_ _covered in blood and dirt, his eyes mad and his hair filthy._ _He was surrounded by a group of men in masks holding guns that Francis knew all too well – HK416. He shook his head. The irony…_

_“I’m telling ya, man...” He began. American. From somewhere in the background someone shouted something Nick couldn’t understand. The soldier very slowly raised his head and blinked a couple of times, as though in some kind of trance._ _The camera panned away and Nick gasped. The man was missing half a leg. It had been removed recently. However, it didn’t seem to bother him at all._ _He was bleeding to death._ _Nick felt like he was going to get sick. “I’m invincible, Franz,” the soldier continued. The sergeant next to Nick was speechless. He looked dead inside. “Don’t feel a damn thing.” The soldier on screen laughed._

_For a moment Nick thought Francis was going to drop the tablet pc but he didn’t. He remained the way he was, frozen, in disbelief._ _More Dari. Nick sat down. His head was spinning. Francis barely noticed. ”I’m sorry this all went wrong…” The man’s voice has shaky as though he was shivering, his breathing very slow. He tried clearing his throat but somehow didn’t really manage to. His voice cracked. “I’m supposed to warn you._ _These bastards ain’t playing around. But you know that. You were always the best of us.”_

_One of the masked men pressed the barrel of the gun into the man’s shoulder. The soldier laughed again. His eyelids were fluttering. “They have someone here who speaks English, I couldn’t even cross ‘em.” He sighed deeply. What followed were a couple of sentences in Dari. Francis’ knuckles turned white as his grip on the tablet pc tightened._ _Nick was covering his face with his hands and thinking about how he would much rather be with his girlfriend right now. How he prayed something like that would never happen to Francis or, God forbid, him._

_The transmission ended with a crackling noise and Francis lowered the device. He seemed as pale a ghost despite being tanned. He sat down by Nick’s side, rested his elbows on his knees, his face in his hands. Neither of them said anything for several minutes._

_His voice sounded empty and cold when Francis spoke again. “They won’t get away with this. The world needs to know.”_

_Nick nodded slowly. He wasn’t quite sure how exactly or why the press would cover something as horrendous when they had no problem keeping the truth from the people in other, less severe cases. He decided he was going to try his best to show what was going down regardless. He rested his hand on Francis’ shoulder and bit his lip._ _The sergeant looked at him._ _“He deserves justice. I’ll do my part,” he promised. He considered adding how fighting wouldn’t solve anything, especially after what Francis had said earlier but he ended up not doing so._

_Nick and Francis locked glances_ _, a sad smile on his face. “Thank you, Nick. I really mean it.”_ _Nick just briefly nodded in response. “I… I need to report this. You can come with if you want,” Francis told him, his voice still laced with pain. Nick wasn’t sure how close Francis and the man from the special force had been but he could tell they hadn’t just been friends._


	8. Hollow Bones Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: strong language, explicit imagery (graphic violence), mentions of guns, war/combat

_“_ _You know a while back they tested these bullets. A lead core with a thin layer of polonium and some gaseous bullshit on the inside that not only dissolves but basically melts your skin,”_ _Francis told Nick_ _as he was showing a piece of ammunition to the journalist_ _. “Once it hits, the impact tears the metal jacket and molds the lead,_ _removing the protective layer around the polonium_ _._ _You then have a combination of toxic metal, now exposed radioactive metal and whatever is inside of that. Each of the components could be somewhat deadly, it’s pretty much fool-proof._ _Around all that tombac as usual. They look harmless but man… I’ve seen what they do._ _” He sighed and shook his head. His eyes met Nick’s._

 _The latter st_ _a_ _r_ _ed at his friend in disbelief. “That is…”_ _He bit his lip as he mentally repeated what Francis had just told him_ _so that he would recall it later. “B_ _rilliant_ _is not the right word,” Nick began and Francis scoffed, nodding._ _“_ _It’s so... cruel._ _I wish you were kidding but I know you aren’t.”_

 _“_ _Believe me, I wish I was, too, bud._ _Scary shit._ _Look around though. Name one thing about all this that is in no way cruel._ _”_

_Nick pursed his lips._

_Suddenly there was yelling outside and Nick could heard a_ _n alarm_ _somewhere. “Oh fuck no,” Francis said as though he was expecting the worst. Rightfully so as Nick was going to find out. A voice coming from Francis’ radio seemed to confirm what he had been fearing considering his facial expression. “Stay here,” he commanded. “Hide under one of the beds. If you see something roll in here, pray it’s smoke. I know I’m repeating myself but stay here. Please.” He stared at Nick intently as he was loading all weapons he had at hand. “I don’t want to lose another one.”_

_What Nick didn’t know was that the very group that had killed off the special force were not only attacking the base but also the outposts. At once._

_Francis stormed out of the tent and Nick could briefly see how there were several bodies on the ground outside. He threw up and fell to his knees. After what felt like an eternity, Francis came back and_ _helped Nick get back on his feet. “Our forces aren’t strong enough, we have to get to an AFV immediately, come on.” He didn’t have time to explain the abbreviation to Nick. They stumbled out into the sun, taking cover whenever they could._

 _Nick was hit by another wave of nausea as they slowly made their way across this open cemetery, this field of slaughter. Francis could feel his heart get heavier with every familiar face he saw distorted and empty but he had to ignore the numbness and keep pushing forward. Both for Nick’s and_ **__his_ _ ** _sake._

_Then everything seemed to happen all at once. Faster than Nick could even hear the bullets fly, he was thrown down by the weight of Francis' body. Had there been an explosion? Nick’s vision blurred. Was he hit?_

_Francis who was shielding Nick with his body as the latter now realised, cried out in pain, rolled off of Nick and dragged him_ _along for both of them to have taken cover. “Fuck!” Francis exhaled loudly_ _and gritted his teeth_ _._

_Now Nick could see there was blood pouring from his friend’s left leg and arm. “You’re bleeding!” he exclaimed._

_Francis gave him a “oh, really?” look before his facial expression softened. He chuckled. “Barely a scratch. We need to get the fuck out of this place. A-fucking-SAP.”_

_Nick was surprised how relatively calm his friend was about the situation. He_ _had been digging his fingers into the ground, clenching his fist which only just now became apparent to him as the hot sand tore his skin. He felt like he couldn’t move,_ _so damn useless._ _For a moment he wanted to be some animal that plays dead until the predator gives up._ _Or to be able to switch to a parallel universe without all this horror going on. Oh, the things he would give._

 _He aggressively bit his lip before tearing strips from his uniform as though in some kind of trance. The fabric was really hard to tear but his fingers were ruined anyway, he barely felt anything but pain but he was sure Francis was far worse off. He had taken not just one but several bullets for Nick. “_ _What are you doing?” Francis asked quietly. Nick didn’t reply._

_The sergeant turned towards the other survivors and yelled some commands Nick couldn’t make out. The soldiers however understood considering they were all doing something that looked extremely coordinated, somehow like a school of fish. The journalist was too overwhelmed to really process anything that was going on around him. It was little short of a miracle that he didn’t just pass out. He tied the fabric around Francis’ limbs as good as possible. It wasn’t like he was really experienced at putting on tourniquets._

_One of the soldiers a couple of feet away from them leaned forward to take a peak at the area ahead of them for less than half a second when his body was thrown back like a mannequin, his head pretty much gone. Nick froze. He barely processed the enourmous bang. The image of the faceless man burnt itself into his memory. He couldn’t even scream. Francis was dead silent but Nick could tell his thoughts were racing._

_He cocked his gun and the other soldiers did the same. Nick continued feeling absolutely useless. Francis raised his healthy arm and gave the others signs. They nodded briefly in response. The sergeant looked at Nick. “You stay here, you understand?”_

_The writer nodded and broke eye-contact._

_Right when the soldiers left their spots and spread out, more bullets filled the air. Nick saw how one pushed one of the men down to the ground without even hitting him. He didn’t get back up. Despite the heat, Nick felt really cold._ _The impact and scattering sufficed to kill._

_Francis was breathing heavily. Harried voices were coming from Francis’ radio. “Sniper down,” Francis told Nick. Somehow, the way Francis said it didn’t make Nick feel relieved at all._

_“_ _Are we safe now?”_ _The journalist_ _felt like he had never heard himself sound so scared._

 _Francis winced in pain and closed his eyes as he rested his head against the wall. “There’s never just one, b_ _rother_ _. For this exact reason.”_

 _Now that Nick thought about it, it made a lot of sense and somehow he felt like was capable of more rational thinking now that he had an idea of what or rather who was still out there._ _How_ _foolish of him to think he knew one bit of what was going on._

_“I'd tell you to get outta here but you would be dead in less than ten seconds,” Francis remarked and Nick clenched his jaw._

_“Is that how you think encouragement works?” Nick asked, letting out a nervous laugh. He wasn’t sure how his body still knew how to breathe._

_Francis scoffed and opened his eyes. “Oh, shut up.”_


End file.
